


What The High Lady Wants

by YouLookGoodInLeather



Series: Spring Bride!Cassian Universe [2]
Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Comedy, Crack, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Naked Men, Spring Bride!Cassian, Tamlin's Big Gay Awakening
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-16
Updated: 2017-04-16
Packaged: 2018-10-19 18:41:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10645752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YouLookGoodInLeather/pseuds/YouLookGoodInLeather
Summary: “So let me get this straight,” Rhysand says, slowly. He and the rest of the inner circle are gathered before the returned warrior, having gone from hugging and congratulating him to staring agape at him in the space of five minutes. “You’re telling us that you had sex with Tamlin. You. And him. On Calanmai.”“Well, yes.” Cassian puts his hands up in surrender and tries to play it all off as some hilarious joke. “I promise you, there’s a perfectly good explanation.”___________________In which Tamlin is (accidentally) given the gift of a glorious fuck by his wife, although not actually from her, and Cassian once again (nearly) becomes the Bride of Spring.





	What The High Lady Wants

“So let me get this straight,” Rhysand says, slowly. He and the rest of the inner circle are gathered before the returned warrior, having gone from hugging and congratulating him to staring agape at him in the space of five minutes. “You’re telling us that you had sex with Tamlin. You. And him. On Calanmai.”

“Well, yes.” Cassian puts his hands up in surrender and tries to play it all off as some hilarious joke. “I promise you, there’s a perfectly good explanation.”

*

Really, if anyone is to blame, it is Feyre.

They have devised a grand scheme to rescue her on the night of Calanmai, when the protective shields between the borders of the courts are at their weakest to let the magic flow through Prythian. Azriel is charged with ensuring they don’t encounter any unwanted surprises courtesy of Hybern, Amren and Rhysand with fighting off Tamlin’s courtiers, and Mor with the actual rescuing part. Cassian, the fearsome warrior, is charged with occupying the beast himself; He’s assigned to delaying Tamlin long enough so that they can break her out.

He is sent ahead to visit the Spring Court under the guise of diplomacy, in order to ensure she knows the plan and they are all good to go. Before she departs to dress and arm herself, he asks her for advice. “He thinks with his dick,” Feyre says blandly, giving a roll of her eyes. “Just play to that and he’ll be putty in your hands.”

Of course, what Feyre means is for Cassian to distract Tamlin with talk of his ‘bride’. Piss him off maybe and get in to a brawl, or get him bragging about how talented he is in the bedsheets. What she doesn’t know is that Cassian has been forbidden from fighting with Tamlin at almost any cost; Rhysand said that, if anyone deserves the right to take the bastard’s life, it is Feyre, and Cass isn’t sure he could hold back from murdering the fucker if it came to combat.

Other factors come in to play. For one, when you are a comfortable, open bisexual who frequently dabbles in sampling all the genders, you often forget that not everyone else is as gloriously bisexual as yourself. Secondly, Cassian has always been enormously sexually confident in himself, and knows damn well that few sane souls in the land would turn down a night with him.

Thus, two plus two equals the belief that Feyre has ordered him to seduce her fiancé.

What the High Lady wants…

It is with grim resignation that he readies himself. He combs his hair, strips himself, preens himself in the mirror, dashes himself with fragrant water; all for the bastard he would love to kill. Sighing, he flops down upon Tamlin’s bed and spreads himself out, posing provocatively with his cock facing the door, a rose pinched between his teeth, his hair swept up in his usual, deeply sexy man bun. Mor would never let him live this down.

Tamlin arrives a little late to his room to prepare, thus he walks in to find Cassian, bored and impatient, inspecting his various prized belongings, stark naked and twirling a rose like a baton. It takes him a moment to actually process what he’s witnessing. “What in the name of the Cauldron are you doing?” He barks out, his rage tempered but his utter disbelief.

Swiveling on his back heel, Cassian spots his ‘target’ and shouts ‘Aha!’, brandishing the rose at Tamlin as if he were challenging him to a duel. Tamlin blinks at it. Twice. “Rogue,” Cassian says, and for a minute he really is going to challenge him before he remembers Feyre’s advice. He lowers his voice, spreads his best wolfish grin across his face, and holds a hand out to Tamlin. “I am here to bed you.”

“You’re- What- I don’t- What?” He stammers, boggled by not only the lunacy of the scenario, but the enormous length of his enemy’s cock. He really can’t take his eyes off of it. It’s _huge_. The rumours weren’t kidding about Illyrians.

“To the bed,” Cassian orders with a grand gesture of his rose. “Where we shall make love until the stag appears.”

“I’m going to find Feyre,” Tamlin says, having concluded he will make no sense of this no matter how hard he tries.

“No!” Cass shouts, lunging after him and catching his hand. He has never met someone so difficult to seduce, and one who apparently thinks with his cock at that. His pride is wounded. He has a reputation to uphold.

Time to turn up the charm.

Bringing Tamlin closer, Cassian leans in and caresses his cheek tenderly, a move that has made a hundred panties drop in the past. “My good man, she sent me here to you. A gift, to wet the appetite for tonight’s celebrations. I swear to you,” he leans in and kisses him softly on the lips, “I am a most considerate lover.”

“Feyre… sent you?”

“Indeed. It was by her word that I come to you tonight.” Not technically a lie. “And it is by her word that I shall teach you how the Illyrians make love, so that you might enthrall her even further on this magical occasion. Surely, you have heard the rumours of how Illyrians fuck?”

“I… I have not.”

“Madness!” Cassian cries, because he has realized he’s getting far too into this, and he must admit that whilst the man opposite him may be an complete and total turd-brain, he is rather handsome.

“Well, how do they fuck then?” Tamlin snips, like a petulant child.

“Why, with fire in their bellies and passion in their cocks. Women weep to see merely a glimpse of their broad chests, girls avert their eyes for to merely look upon a male Illyrian in his prime is to know the true meaning of sexual desire. When I’m done with you, High Lord, you shall enchant your wife to look forever at no other. Why, you’ll be the one having to fight off other advances!”

And what man could say no to an offer such as that?

Cassian helps him out of his clothes, and they stand there, entwined in one anothers arms, both astounded at just what is happening. Both are giants of men, muscular and broad, but where Tamlin is the polished, neat figure of a well-groomed High Lord, Cassian is rough and evocative, with his intricate tattoos and wild, manbeast eyes. “Tonight, Lord,” he says, “you learn to fuck.”

And fuck they do. They fuck on the bedsheets, the desk, the floor, the bathroom. Most bizarrely of all, they fuck out on the dining room table with all the servants watching on in abject horror as a big, burly Illyrian man pounds their master into the woodwork. They fuck in the gardens. They fuck in the pond. They even fuck in Feyre’s bedroom, and the High Lord never once wonders aloud where she is.

By the time they are done fucking, it is well past dawn.

Elsewhere, Feyre has killed the stag, claimed the power for the land, and has also escaped with no fatalities, aside from a mild concern as for why Cassian has not joined them in the journey back; all have assumed he has good reason, for he’s sent no word of distress.

“Well,” Cassian says, sitting up in bed and smoking a cigarette. “That was surprisingly good. Good for you too?” He asks, looking back at Tamlin, who is sat up, clutching the bedsheets too him and looking rather pale.

“I think I might be gay.”

*

“So you see,” Cassian says, arms wide. “Feyre told me to. I was just-”

“Don’t, Cassian,” Feyre says, shaking her head. “Just. Be quiet for a minute.”

He is, as they all are, standing in silence until Amren pipes up, “So… does this mean he won’t be trying to kidnap Feyre any more?”

“Exactly!” Cassian says with a bold grin at the Ancient one. “See, I have solved all our problems. Although…” All eyes turn to him. “He did sort of, kind of, _maybe_ vow to hunt me to the ends of the realm to make me his eternal lover. So… Let’s not fall into any more of Hybern’s traps, yeah? Because I’m not ready to be the bride of spring.”

More silence. “I say we hand him over,” Rhysand says finally, looking at the others. “Agreed?” They all raise their hands.

“Agreed.”


End file.
